


Unlikely Savior

by The_Muses_of_Mars



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 04:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Muses_of_Mars/pseuds/The_Muses_of_Mars
Summary: During a crisis, Crowley (Crawly) does something selfless and leaves Aziraphale to wonder, who is the angel, and who is the demon?





	Unlikely Savior

**Author's Note:**

> Ineffable Husbands Week, Day 2 Prompt: "Rain, Storm, Downpour."

**MESOPOTAMIA: 3004 BC**

“Ah…here comes the rain,” Aziraphale said.

“I noticed,” Crawly snapped, blinking as plump droplets splashed his eyes. The wind was picking up as the sky further darkened, tossing his long, red curls over his shoulders. He watched with something deeper than pity in his heart as men, women, and even children scurried to get home to their village, hoping to be safe from the storm. It was saddening to think that those same families and their homes would soon be underwater.

“Well…shall we be off?” Aziraphale asked Crawly through a forced smile.

Crawly’s attention snapped back to the angel. “You’re just going to leave these people to drown then, are you?”

Aziraphale was visibly uncomfortable by his decision, but it seemed his mind was made up. “The Almighty’s plan has been set in motion. If we stay here, we may be drowning ourselves, as well.”

“I can’t believe you!” Crawly drew back in repulsion, as if he did not even recognize the creature standing next to him. “Which of us is the demon here?”

The angel fidgeted. “Well, it is getting rather wet now, dear fellow. But I hear it’s dry in Australia this time of year…”

Crawly stared at him, shook his head, and made a sound of utter disgust. There was no point in arguing with Aziraphale and his stubborn faith in God’s “ineffable” plan. It was practically all the angel talked about.

He turned on the heel of his sandal and rolled up his sleeves, setting out for a large group of people who were following a road toward a village down over the hillside. The once-dusty path was quickly growing muddy, and in no time the wheels of their ox-carts would be stuck, and they would end up wasting precious time trying to free them when they and their animals could be moving towards safety.

Aziraphale continued to fidget, watching as Crawly’s feet sank squelching into the earth, and the trailing fabric of his black robes dragged through the mud. “Uh…um… Crawly? Where…?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the rumble of fast-approaching thunder. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to lead these sheep and their stupid livestock to higher ground,” Crawly shouted over his shoulder at Aziraphale, his words nearly swept away by the wind.

“Crawly, wait!” Aziraphale threw up an arm to shield his face as the rain beat down on him. He ran after Crawly, the wind impeding his movements and the rainwater blurring his vision. “Crawly, you can’t save them all!” he warned. “There are thousands of _them_ and only one of _you_. What difference can you possibly hope to make?”

Crawly came upon a family and scooped up a small child who’d been straggling behind, struggling in the deepening muck. “I made a difference to this one,” he said pointedly, holding the small boy on his hip and hugging him close. The child’s mother glanced over her shoulder with a grateful expression as she pulled along the child’s sisters.

Aziraphale looked at Crawly, then at the cluster of people trekking through the downpour, then back to Crawly again. “Yes, I… I see your point.”

“Then help me.”

The angel looked to the sky warily. It was impossibly black, barely containing the flood that was to come.

“Aziraphale!”

The angel looked at the demon, into his gold, reptilian eyes, and saw a warmth there he had never thought could be.

At last he nodded. “Yes, Crawly,” Aziraphale said with a new determination. “I’ll help.”

Crawly’s mouth broke out in a grin. Then suddenly he was handing over the child in his arms. “Stop!” he called to the throng headed for the village. “That valley’s going to be waterlogged in minutes! We need to get to higher ground!” At first only a few people turned to look at him, while the rest kept walking.

“Good people!” Aziraphale joined in, calling loudly. “A great flood is coming. If you go back to the village, you will all drown! We must rise above the sea level. To the mountains!”

Now people were paying attention. Crawly took the opportunity to unfasten beasts of burden from their carts. “Don’t worry about food,” he shouted. “We can take care of you. Just get your families and your animals to safety!”

Aziraphale watched with astonishment as the people turned and came toward them, allowing themselves to be herded from the village toward the hills. He carried the little boy on one side and offered his arm to an elderly woman on his other. All the while he marched beside Crawly, who was tugging on the harness of a particularly stubborn goat.

“Crawly, I’m speechless,” he said as the mass of people enveloped them, carrying them like a current to the hilltops. “You… All this… Why, I don’t know what to say.”

Crawly grinned, even while he wrestled with the goat. “I guess you might say…it’s ineffable.”


End file.
